


kiss my ... ear

by mthslh



Series: who + tropes [1]
Category: The Who (Band)
Genre: Dubcon Cuddling, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, John's perspective, M/M, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Room, nothing original but it'll make you happy, tropes tropes tropes, tw: queer used in a negative way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mthslh/pseuds/mthslh
Summary: john and keith are traveling without roger and pete- of course a snowstorm fucks things up.





	kiss my ... ear

**Author's Note:**

> see the end for an explanation on this fic  
note: not a realistic timeline, s'posed to be pre-tommy tho

If John were a little drunker, he would have punched someone by now.

Of course, with his luck, he had drawn the short straw and had to drive the shitty car. Pete and Roger and Kit got the nice car, because they were the "important ones," and here John is driving a gas-guzzling van at 11 p.m. with a fucking monkey in the passenger seat and a blizzard in Fuck-All, USA or wherever in that hellhole of a country they are. Yes, a blizzard that somehow drove everyone in the world to the nearest Holiday Inn and leaving all but one measly one-bed hotel room for him and Keith to share.

Normally he'd be hard already at the idea that Keith would be sharing a bed with him; many a wet dream had that very plot. Faced with the reality of it happening under these circumstances, however, he was mostly just spitting mad. They haul their shit inside, throwing most of it on the ground, and John flops dramatically on the disgusting little couch while Keith is already making a disgusting mess of his suitcases.

"Ah, here we are!" Keith exclaims, somehow pulling a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses completely intact from a suitcase they'd both stepped on in the cutest way possible, his bright eyes glittering even in the light of a flickering bulb. He pours a generous helping into two of the glasses and passes one to John, who downs it in one go and immediately pours himself some more, finally attempting to relax as warmth coursed through his veins.

No more backroads, no more bitchy hotel managers, just him and Keith.

Keith, with his air of confidence, his gorgeous puppy-dog eyes, his kissable lips, his affinity for prostitutes and female fans and things that weren't John. Hell, he might never share a room with John again if he ever learned John was queer. John would never take the risk, of course, but the idea of coming out to Keith was equal parts thrilling and horrifying.

While he waits for the whiskey's effects to set in, to warm him up and keep him sane, Keith runs off to take a shower, and when he's done it's John's turn.

John turns the hot water on, steps in the shower, opens the tiny bottle of shampoo that Keith used 3/4 of (no, he's not thinking of Keith in the shower, not imagining how he looks right when he steps out, cheeks flushed pink and eyelashes dripping- that would be gross and queer and he's not gross) and all of a sudden the lights go out.

_Maybe the light switch is being a bitch,_ John thinks. _Maybe I'll get out and everything'll be fine._

He finishes his shower, throws on boxers and a tee shirt and leaves the bathroom- to find Keith out of bed digging through the suitcase to find an extra blanket.

"The power's out and there's a draft," he offers as explanation, and John's hopes for a normal night fall. Keith tosses him a blanket he found, hopping in an attempt to throw at John's height.

"Oh," John says, "I'll just take the couch, then."

"Don't be silly, dear boy. The blanket's for us."

"Us?"

"You're a giant, John, I'm not putting you on the couch. We can share." Keith licks his lips in an innocent way, but it's still the hottest thing John's seen in a while.

Hid heart skips a beat. "Oh, I- alright, okay."

He climbs into bed with Keith, rigidly avoiding a single touch, and with the aid of the whiskey, he falls asleep in less than 30 minutes.

\---

No more than an hour later, John is woken to Keith on top of him, warm and soft and sweet compared to the room getting ever-colder. He shifts to get comfortable, and Keith wakes up. John is mortified, of course, but Keith doesn't move, his ice cold fingers finding their way under the fabric of John's shirt. _Probably just for warmth,_ John reminds himself. _Keith isn't queer anyway._

"'S fuckin' cold," Keith murmurs, voice slurred with sleep instead of drugs for once.

"Yeh," John responds. "Fuckin' cold indeed."

"There's a way we can stay warm," Keith breathes into his ear, and _oh God it's not happening it can't be real and-_

Keith kisses him lazily, sloppily. No, there aren't fireworks- there's a lovely feeling spreading like molasses, and just as sweet, and Keith tastes like alcohol and smoke and a bit of the gritty, grimy flavor of sleep, but nonetheless, it's incredible. Incredible feeling Keith's mouth on his, Keith's gorgeous eyelashes brushing John's cheek, his hands still in John's shirt, anchoring them together. It's all John could have ever wanted, and they're both fully awake now.

"Are you sure?" John asks, a final warning, the last chance Keith has to punch him in the face and walk out. But Keith doesn't. He nods and keeps going, adding tongue and just enough teeth grazing his lips to make John go wild, and oh God, he's already hard, and now that John's thinking about it, so is he.

Wordless, Keith reaches into John's pants and starts stroking, and John's a goner, he's never gonna forget this moment, no going back now. John relishes a moment in the feeling- Keith's hands focused on him, not drums. He tentatively begins doing the same to Keith and Keith moans, an ungodly sound, like it's the best thing he's ever felt, like it's his first sip of water in 2 days, like it's the most gorgeous bird he's ever met. But it's not a bird, it's John, just John, and Keith is reacting like he's something amazing and incredible. John's never been insecure, but he never thought his plain face and thick stature would appeal to a man as beautiful as Keith. Evidently he was wrong, he figures, returning the gesture to Keith.

"John, your hands, ngh-" Keith moans against his lips, and John pulls back, scared of hurting the man he loves. "No, I- please. I want to feel them, want them inside me, so fucking handsome, I've dreamed of this for so long-" And damn, if that isn't a self esteem boost. John reluctantly pulls from Keith's grip to find a large bottle he keeps in his (immaculately organized, thank you very much) suitcase and squeezes some of the lube into his hands.

"Done this before?"

"Once or twice."

"It'll hurt a bit, but-"

"Christ, darling, get on with it."

It's thrilling to be Keith's "darling," instead of just giving compliments for a change.

He works Keith open slowly, all clothes cast aside, scissoring him open with two fingers, then three.

"John, get on with it."

"Are you sure?"

"You're fuckin' huge, but I'll live," Keith quips, pupils blown and cheeks flushed the way John had imagined.

John makes sure Keith is comfortable, stroking himself with generous amounts of lube, and pushes in. Tears come to Keith's perfect doe eyes but he's moaning in pleasure as John pushes in and out slowly, then faster, with John's hands traveling his body and making him shake in pleasure. His hands eventually land on Keith's shoulders, not quite hard enough to hurt, causing him to moan louder. 

"Faster, love, fuck!"

John complies. Keith's hair is sticking to his forehead and he's gasping, and _oh god,_ he's lovely. John keeps him propped up with one hand and touches his face with the other, absorbing the moment, realizing that it's all real and he's _fucking Keith Moon._ He continues pushing, keeping Keith gasping and moaning, until suddenly Keith tightens up.

Keith comes with a shout and it sends John over the edge too.

John goes to the restroom and grabs a warm washcloth and comes back to clean the two of them up. He discards the washcloth carelessly to the ground and crawls back next to Keith, needing nothing but closeness.

They cling to each other. John peppers kisses over Keith's face. "You're so incredible," he whispers.

"God, John, you're perfect."

John draws Keith nearer, tracing circles on his back as he still quivers under John's touch. Keith kisses John once more, no longer full of hunger, but content where he is. It's as if they've been there for all eternity and they will be forever, never parting for a second, and it's perfect.

The lights flicker back on and the heat kicks in but John and Keith are both too spent to notice- already sleeping soundly in each others' arms, smiles on their faces.

**Author's Note:**

> this may be a series???  
so basically, I'm unoriginal. i'm only writing this bc of the lack of who fic  
so i decided to take the most overdone tropes and run with em


End file.
